


#BarlianWeek

by motherofrevels



Category: Onward (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys Kissing, Brother/Brother Incest, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Incest, M/M, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Sibling Incest, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27319288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofrevels/pseuds/motherofrevels
Summary: orchestrated by twitter, and written by you.CONTENT WARNING: Please consider reading the applied tags carefully.
Relationships: Barley Lightfoot/Ian Lightfoot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	#BarlianWeek

**Author's Note:**

> Please explore the #BarlianWeek tag on Twitter to view all the lovely art pieces that inspired this short.

Well within the muted susurrations of suburbia, upon a charming lane lined with nearly indistinguishable homes, one especially inconspicuous residence teemed with illumination. A celestial gleam that ushered forth a pillar of smoke, from which opposites emerged for a series of inelegant trundles and subdued laughter.

The haze that enveloped their unpretentious surroundings seemed to vanish into the aether then, wholly undermining the laws of nature as it consigned a lush and hauntingly familiar aroma.

One that called to mind a creature born of birthday wishes—

“ _Finally_ ,” velveteen baritone called from the stairwell.

Within a moment, the aforementioned _creature_ joined the mismatched pair currently recalibrating themselves in the heart of their childhood home. Hazel eyes met briefly; amiable nods exchanged as the newcomer knelt before the slightest of them.

“How did your body take to the distortion, little love? Are either of you hurt? I’ve been pacing a _groove_ in the floors,” the man fretted, his treasure-stained leer seeking fawn-like valentines.

“We’re—E-Everything’s _good!_ The first jump was a little tricky, but the _others_ were a piece of cake,” Ian declared, a timid smile tugging at the fullness of his lips.

“You should have seen _him!_ ” Barley bellowed next, gesturing wide as he reached to draw the lithe spellcaster into a clumsily placed single-armed embrace. “ _Oh_ , to bear witness to the _mightiest_ of mages! The boundless _glory_ and _splendor_ of _Sir Iand_ — **Oof**!”

Iandore’s elbow buried itself into the chronicler’s illustrious gut, allowing the limber youth to slip from his sibling’s studded clutches.

“You . . . phased in _multiples_?” the crouching man queried, rising to tower just above the silver-tongued hooligan.

In a show of macabre intrigue, a broad hand elevated to groom the subtle geometry of an azure beard; bespectacled eyes null and dilated.

“I’m _aiming_ to remain calm . . . But I must confess, I’m disappointed,” the barbate gentleman conceded, dense brows taught with apprehension. “Phasing through distortions at a rapid pace— _Iandore_ , that comes with an _enormous_ risk—”

“ _Holden_ ,” Ian interposed, moonstone beseeching crystalline sunset. “I . . . I rested in between jumps. I-I _promise!_ We did everything **safely** —”

“He’s _right_ , Dad . . . He was _great_ out there!” Barley supported, offering their elder a reassuring grin. “We took breaks! You know, a little time exploring each plane . . . It was fuckin’ **awesome** —!”

“ _Language_ , Barley,” Holden quipped, mustached lips pursing as he tapped a polished Oxford against the woodgrain below.

For a time, he merely analyzed the offspring of his assumed countenance—posture disconcertingly still apart from the rapping of his toes upon the flooring—until at length he heaved a shuddering sigh.

“I recognize how _little_ you know of alchemic balance, and the rifts between realms . . . But these constructs—They aren’t as _simple_ as magic. They aren’t invoked by belief or bestowed by genetic inheritance. They aren’t _proficiencies_ to be honed and awarded to perseverance . . . A mere **fraction** of error? And _one_ or **both** of you could be lost to the roil of chaos . . . Do you understand?” the gentleman scolded, jaw tightening beneath the veil of a noble beard.

“There are _innumerable_ worlds out there not designed with bodies like yours in mind. Even _you_ , Barley, resilient as you are . . . Gravities that could render this entire planet into _silt_. Hellscapes of swirling gas, treacherous winds, and eternal fire— _One_ _mistake_ is all it takes . . . A _single_ careless oversight? And I lose one or _both_ of my boys . . . And what’s worse? You could lose _each other_ . . . One of you could be all alone out there. Abandoned in a world not intended for your species to thrive, without a _shred_ of hope for outside contact.”

The brothers were aptly reticent, somber eyes scrutinizing their elder’s fervent tapping against the floor.

But in time, Holden tempered his stance; a brisk shake of his head presented as he stepped forward to draw both boys into an unbalanced embrace.

“Don’t misunderstand, my loves . . . You simply _cannot_ perform recklessly when _so much beauty_ could be jeopardized . . . _However_ , I’m very proud of you both for advancing so swiftly,” he grumbled, earning himself dual sighs of relief (laced with breathless chuckles) as his embrace was returned. “I expect you have much to tell me of your _travels_. Today marks the seventh sun since your departure . . . But _first_ , showers and dinner. What would you both like?”

“Steak and mushrooms—!”

“French toast—!”

The answers were discordant, largely imprudent, and followed by a glisten of mirth.

“Very well,” Holden agreed, voice embellished in amusement as he planted thorny kisses into oiled silk and cherubic coils. “I’ll mind your luggage and start dinner— _Oh!_ And Iandore? Tonight is—”

“All Hallows’ Eve? We _know_! We’ve _gotta_ show you all the costumes we scored in some of the modern realms before we phased back here!” Barley interjected, fumbling through various pockets in search of his cellphone.

The sweetly spiced gentleman quirked a brow inquisitively, locking eyes with the youngest among them in reciprocal amusement.

“Be that as it _may_ , the waxing moons are in full bloom, _so_ —”

“Tonight would be _perfect_ for practicing advanced spells,” Iandore disrupted next, directing an indulgent smile toward the spectral image of his progenitor.

“Correct . . . Well then, _upstairs_ with you. _Both_ of you.”

And so it was—the Lightfoot brothers stampeding up the stairs in a flurry of playful banter—shedding stale attire along the tidy halls of their childhood home.

Upon reaching their adoptive father’s master bath, a modest scuffle blossomed between them as they debated the temperature of their proposed shower; dissenting shoves succumbing to nibbles and kisses as they permitted themselves to simply balance beneath the equable downpour.

Dusk and sunrise explored each other in a moment of calm; affectionate smiles on pastel lips that broke only to beam in mutual pride.

A pride in each other, and a pride in their love.

“Holden was _really_ upset,” the timorous youth recounted, swallowing anxiously as Barley nodded his agreement. “He’s _gotta_ learn to _trust_ me—”

“He _does_ trust you, Ian. But he _cares_ about you—Cares about _both_ of us . . . It can be _scary_ for the people that love you, to think they might _lose_ you,” the fabler explained, raising calloused hands to thumb across his junior’s freckled cheeks. “ _Trust_ me, I’ve been dealing with it all week long.”

At this, the slighter boy presented a scoff, craning for a contemptuous kiss only to find himself held firmly in-place.

“I’m _serious_!” Barley pressed; rugged handsomeness marred by frustration. “Do you remember when those crazy kids almost hit you with their _car?!_ ”

“Y-Yeah! _Of_ _course_ I do! Those were _your_ ridiculous Greaser friends, Barley!” the mage reminded, doe-eyes rolling as he quirked a brow in a display of conviction. “I _tried to tell you_ those guys were assholes, but you wouldn’t _listen_ to me! A-And what about _you_ , anyway? _You’re_ the one who almost set yourself on _fire_ in Ingolstadt—”

“I thought it was _pretty!_ You’d _just_ given me life! I was only a few hours old!” Barley defended with a sheepish grin. “How about the time you almost fell off of _Blazey_ in mid-flight!”

“That was _your_ bright idea, Barley! _‘I’m a Barbarian! I wear bones and ride dragons!’_ —”

“I was a _Viking!_ And she had a _saddle_ on! _You_ didn’t wanna straddle her the right way! You did that to _yourself!_ ”

“I did that to _myself?_ ” Ian echoed incredulously.

“ _Yeah!_ ” Barley tossed, a playful glister backing his leer. “Just like you sold your soul to _actual_ Hades, all by _yourself!_ And for _what_? So that _douchebag_ you had resurrected could run off with someone _else_ —?”

“I-I was **young** —!”

“You know what _else_ you did all by yourself? _Slithered_ out of our loft in Tokyo to go _gallivanting_ with Sadalia and Jenny! _After dark!_ I was your _manager_ —”

“ _And_ my bodyguard—”

“ _And_ your **bodyguard**! I was supposed to be _protecting_ you! And you called me _crying_ from—Remind me _, where_ was that again?!”

Ian was gnawing back his own sheepish grin by this point, tsking as he felt a familiar heat rushing to his youthful features.

“From an alleyway.”

“From an _alleyway!_ In _Tokyo!_ **Without** the _girls!_ ” Barley scolded alongside an uproarious chuckle.

“O- _Okay!_ **Fine**! But who was it that almost let me _starve to death_ at Raven’s Point? You were the _only_ man around for _miles_ that I could have fed on!”

“I was a fuckin’ _priest_! What did you _expect_ me to do—?!”

“ _And?!_ Priests are supposed to be compassionate!” Iandore was beginning to crack, humored hysteria gracing his tone as he went. “A-And _then_ , you almost _mauled_ me in the woods! **_Mauled_** me! W-With your dirty _dog_ _teeth!_ ”

“ ** _Fuck_** _you!_ ” Barley quipped, bulk and brawn quivering beneath the influence of collective glee. “It was a _full moon! I_ was a fuckin’ _wolfman_ —!”

“A _Lycanthrope!_ ” the lissome conjurer rectified as he rested his weight against his sibling’s. “ _You_ would—” he stifled his delight “—You would have never let me live that _down_ , a year ago! A ‘ _wolfman’?!_ ”

And there they stood; dissatisfaction lost to satire as they held one another beneath the balmy stream. But once their merriment finally subsided, there was only reverence.

“Remember when we were _princes_ , and our nations were at war?” Barley was the first to fill their comfortable silence, rocking the enchanter against him in a comforting rhythm. “You were a total _brat_ when I found you in that forest . . . But you took my breath away.”

Iandore labored to meet his elder’s gaze then, parting his lips in protest only to find himself silenced by a tender kiss.

A kiss that deepened and lingered.

But when at last their endearment divided, the raconteur continued:

“You take my breath away every single day . . . No matter _who_ or _where_ we are. No matter _what_ reality . . . You _know_ that, right?”

But the magus could only flush; lower lip drawn between faintly misaligned teeth as he shook his head in denial, only to receive a mirrored sequence of nods.

“W- _Well_ . . . I hope you know by now, I feel the same way,” the wizard replied, a tentative smile lighting his lips as he searched his brother’s honeyed gaze. “I-I mean, I married you _twice!_ —I just—This week was _amazing_. A-And I have _you_ to thank for the best of it, so . . . So _thanks_ , Barley . . . Thanks for the smiles, and all the adventures . . . Thanks for _everything_.”

Barley was glowing with unbridled pride; flourished ears traversing his gifted sibling’s acclaim with all the competence one could expect of a seasoned voyager

And then fell a second kiss—flavored by whimsy and wanderlust.

“I _love_ you, Iandore.”

A declaration of immaculate romance.

“I love you, too, Barley . . . _So much_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please explore the #BarlianWeek tag on Twitter to view all the lovely art pieces that inspired this short.


End file.
